Starfall
by topazchild
Summary: A new friend has an unusual talent, Arthur takes Merlin to a dangerous place, and King Alined finds that some power may not be for him.
1. Chapter 1

Starfall

Valley of the Fallen Kings, early morning

The man was beautifully formed, with hazel eyes and hair of a honey color which fell, both loose and braided, to his waist. He was an elf, and he moved with all the lithesome nimbleness of that ancient race. From the shadows, though he was unaware of it, a ragtag band of thieves and cutthroats watched him, as they had for the last several hours, with cold and predatory eyes.

He had just emerged from the doorway into the mountain when they jumped him. Caught by surprise and outnumbered, he was quickly overwhelmed and fell to the earth, several knife wounds in his chest. The attackers carelessly stepped over him, several of them kicking him as they rushed through the open doorway, certain they would find vast treasure.

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Several kilometers away in a wooded area, a small group of druids was picking blackberries.

_Help me. _Iseldir cocked his head, listening. The voice was faint; either the person was far away or badly hurt, the latter he feared.

"One of the elves is in trouble. Gabriel, I think."

The others paused in their berry picking and looked at first Iseldir and then each other, uneasiness reflected in their glances. Gabriel guarded the mountain.

A short time later the druids cautiously approached the area where the injured man lay upon the ground. His attackers had left. Two of the druids knelt to tend to him while Iseldir searched through his pack for the Cup of Life. He had had to weigh the risks of bringing it against possibly needing it and not having it. He had made the right decision, and the elf would live because of it.

The remaining druids hurried through the open doorway into the mountain. The treasure was gone.

A few days later

After quarreling over the matter and a rather nasty fistfight, the thieves decided to shop the crown around to the reigning monarchs of the five kingdoms. If they'd been a bit brighter, the pitfalls of doing so would have been more apparent. The man chosen to approach the first king was Whitley. Ill-favored from birth, he had broken, discolored teeth and a jagged scar running from the corner of his eye to his jaw line. Of them all, he had the lowest intelligence which, granted, was not saying a lot. They decided to start with the Pendragon king in Camelot. Inquiries were made in a tavern on the edge of the lower town. The king would be holding court that very afternoon.

Upon entering the palace and being eyed suspiciously by several guards, Whitley was dismayed to see the long line of subjects waiting to address the king with various grievances. He lined up at first behind the others but soon grew impatient and attempted to cut in front of a shabbily dressed, middle-aged woman. She protested in outrage, several others objected on her behalf, and a minor scuffle broke out with shoving and angry muttering.

"Silence!" the king bellowed. "What is the meaning of this?" He gave a nod to Sir Leon. "Find out who is responsible and bring them here."

In no time at all, Whitley, escorted by Sir Leon and Sir Percival, found himself standing before an annoyed King Uther (the other petitioners having helpfully pointed him out to the two knights.) "How dare you create a disturbance in my court! Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Uther demanded.

"A thousand pardons, your highness," Whitley said, nervously bowing. It was beginning to filter through his tiny brain that he had badly mishandled matters. "It's just that my companions and I have a jeweled crown that we wish to sell -"

"A jeweled crown?" The king took in the man's shabby garments and unkempt appearance and laughed, amused. "Show me this jeweled crown," the king demanded, not believing him for a second.

"I don't have it with me -, " Whitley began.

"How inconvenient for you," Uther interrupted, unsympathetically. To Sir Leon: "Put this man in a cell for the night for causing a disturbance and wasting the court's time. You can release him in the morning."

"Yes, Sire," the knight said.

"But we _do_ have a crown in our possession, your highness. I swear!" Whitley continued to protest as he was dragged from the room. "It's antique gold and studded with green stones on the sides!"

"Next! Come, come," the king said, impatiently. Although Uther had already turned his attention to the next person in line, a farmer from an outlying village, his brain registered the thief's last remark.

Same day, on a riding path through the woods

_Emrys_.

Merlin pulled his horse to a halt and looked around. Arthur looked back impatiently. "What is it now, Merlin?"

"The druids, Arthur. They're here." Gwaine and Lancelot looked around, seeing no one.

_We mean you no harm. We wish to speak to Prince Arthur_.

Merlin moved his horse closer to Pyramus, Arthur's black stallion, and spoke in an undertone. "They wish to speak to you, Arthur."

"All right." The prince then spoke in a louder tone. "Show yourselves. I will hear what you have to say."

Iseldir, several other druids, and a man with honey-colored hair that fell to his waist stepped out of the woods and onto the path ahead of them. The prince immediately recognized their leader. He had had several previous encounters with the druid, the last a battle of wills between the two of them which the prince had surprisingly lost. Iseldir had refused to return his servant to him on a bitter cold and snowy night. Arthur's eyes narrowed. He was not feeling particularly magnanimous.

"Yes?" the prince said politely, if a bit coldly.

"There is a clearing near here where we can talk," Iseldir said. "May I suggest -"

"I'm not liking this, Arthur," Gwaine interrupted him.

Arthur raised his hand for silence. "It's all right." To Iseldir: "Show us."

A short time later, Arthur and his three companions had gotten off their horses. Merlin hurried to grab the reins of the prince's horse as well as his own. Iseldir gestured toward the elf.

"This is Gabriel. Two days ago he was attacked in the Valley of the Fallen Kings by robbers and nearly killed. Fortunately we were nearby and were able to save his life."

The four men looked the elf over with interest. He seemed in perfect health. Gabriel returned their gaze with a solemn look in his hazel eyes.

The druid leader continued. "For centuries, the elves have watched over a great treasure hidden inside a mountain. When he was attacked, Gabriel was standing guard alone. The robbers entered the open doorway into the mountain and took the treasure."

"I know nothing of this. What is this treasure?" Arthur asked.

Gabriel picked up the conversation. "There were gold, silver, and precious jewels taken, but what needs to be returned is a crown."

Arthur waited.

"It is an ancient crown of legend and contains much power. In the wrong hands - and it is in the wrong hands - the crown contains a curse."

"What is the curse?" the prince asked.

"I do not know. Only that there is one."

In a cell, sometime after midnight

Whitley sat on some scattered straw, wondering if it was safe to fall asleep. He had heard some small thing scurrying across the floor earlier; a rat he supposed. He resolved to shake the dust of Camelot as soon as possible in the morning. There were four other kingdoms they could peddle the crown to. That failing, he supposed they could pry out the green stones, and sell them individually to wealthy nobles. Maybe even melt down the crown and sell the gold to some merchant as a last resort.

The following morning

Uther was eating breakfast alone at one end of a long table while two servants attended him. He shot an irritated glance at the empty seat on his right. He gestured at Leon and Elyan, standing by the door, to approach him. "Sir Leon, do you know what is keeping my son?"

"He is not in the palace, Sire." Leon shifted uneasily. "He and Merlin went out riding yesterday, and they haven't returned."

The king looked up sharply. "Were they alone?"

"No, Sire. Two of the, uh, knights accompanied them." Sir Leon was hoping the king would not inquire too closely as to their identity.

The king exhaled heavily in irritation. "Tell my son he is to attend me immediately upon his return."

"Yes, Sire." The two knights turned to leave.

"Wait," the king said, on a thought. "Tell Geoffrey I wish to speak with him."

"Yes, Sire."

Back to the prince and his companions

"Show me this place," the prince said to the elf, "this doorway into the mountain." He moved to his black horse, taking the reins out of his servant's hands. "Merlin, ride with Gwaine. Gabriel, you can ride the buckskin."

"It's not necessary," the long-haired elf replied, solemnly. "I can outrun any horse."

"Not Pyramus," Arthur said, laughing as he patted the stallion's neck. He turned at a strangled sound from Gwaine and a general commotion from the others. Gabriel was no longer standing in the clearing. In his place was a long-legged wolf with mottled gray fur. It was a large animal, possibly topping 100 pounds. The pupils of its eyes were blacker than midnight, surrounded by irises of palest green-gold.

"Gabriel can shape-shift," Iseldir said, unnecessarily.

"No, really?" Gwaine said, sarcastically under his breath as the wolf took off running through the woods.

After a moment frozen in shock, Arthur recovered. The prince was nothing if not game. Throwing himself onto the back of his stallion, he felt more exhilarated and alive than he had in weeks. He threw one quick look back at Merlin then urged the black horse into a run.

Merlin would have been hard-pressed to say which creature was wilder: the timber wolf or the prince.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.**

**Please read and review.**

Chapter Two

King Uther may have initially dismissed Whitley's tale of having a jeweled crown, but others present in the great hall did not. Word soon spread like wildfire. People talked about it to their families, friends, and neighbors. Several of them regaled crowds in local taverns expounding on the theme and embellishing details. A number of enterprising individuals, desirous of a monetary reward, traveled to the remaining four kingdoms, alerting rulers and wealthy nobles alike. Soon everyone who could conceivably have a vested interest knew that a fabled crown of great power had surfaced and was being shopped around.

Uther was shortly to realize that his blunder had leveled the playing field and cost him the early advantage.

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On Geoffrey's arrival, Uther waved him to a seat. He wasted no time on pleasantries. "Geoffrey, have you heard of a crown of antique gold that is studded with green stones on the sides?"

The historian and writer thought for a moment. "It sounds very similar to one belonging to your ancestor, Macsen Wledig. As you know, Uther, he was king of the Britons after the death of Octavius. The green stones would be -"

"Hold!" the king interrupted. He stood and fairly bellowed at one of the knights standing guard at the door. "Percival! There was a prisoner being held overnight. Go see if we still have him. And if so, make sure he is not released. Understood? He is not to be released until I have spoken with him. Hurry!"

Percival hastily departed to do as commanded.

"Continue, Geoffrey," the king said.

"The green stones would of course be emeralds. But far beyond its intrinsic value would be its historical and legendary value, Uther. Both to you and to your son. It is a symbol of power to the royal line of Pendragon." Geoffrey looked curiously at the king. "This crown has surfaced?"

"Possibly. But the source is highly unreliable - the man whom I ordered held overnight. If he has the crown in his possession, I wager it was stolen." Although mere minutes had passed since Percival had departed on his orders, the king found himself impatiently watching the door. He continued talking to the historian to distract himself. "If this crown has in fact been located, I want it here at the citadel, in the treasury rooms." Uther sighed heavily.

The historian nodded in agreement with this sentiment. "You may remember, Uther, Macsen or King Maximus was executed by the Roman emperor, Theodosius."

"Yes."

After a few more moments of idle conversation, Percival, accompanied by Sir Leon, reappeared. Both men were slightly out of breath. Uther slapped his hands palms down on the table and rose to his feet. "Well?" he demanded.

"He's gone, Sire," Percival said. "He was released over an hour ago."

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Arthur raced through the forest, the wind ruffling through his blonde hair and whipping at his stallion's mane. He avoided the larger branches but a few of the twigs snagged at his clothing and caught at his sleeves. He gradually became aware, during his headlong flight, of two things: there were loud, angry voices on the path ahead of him, and he had left Merlin and the two knights behind him. In a rare act of caution, he slowed his horse. The gray wolf was nowhere to be seen, no doubt having melted into the forest upon hearing the loud voices.

Less than a kilometer further, the prince rode in upon an extraordinary scene. A scruffy, ill-kempt man, shabbily dressed, was surrounded by well-dressed courtiers, nobles, and at least two kings, all yammering and fussing at each other and attempting to address the shabbily dressed man. The latter looked miserably out of his depth, as if he would rather be anywhere but there.

"Prince Arthur," King Alined huffed, upon seeing him. "I might have known Uther would send you."

"Don't think Uther will have his way just because he sent his son to haggle," said another, a representative for the absent King Cenred.

_The prince! _Whitley thought, confused. The young man had not been in the great hall earlier. He'd only seen the king. Had Uther changed his mind?

Arthur had no idea what anyone was talking about, but he kept his confusion off his face.

"Why would Uther have risked his son and heir?" asked one of the nobles in a loud aside.

Voices quieted and ceased altogether as the well-dressed representatives, nobles, and two kings noted that the beautiful young man was alone, unaccompanied by his knights. Surprise showed on their faces.

"Where _is_ your retinue?" Cenred's man asked with feigned concern, his tone implying that Arthur had wandered away from his nursemaid.

Arthur grinned wickedly at the speaker and was on the verge of replying when, as if on cue, Gwaine, Lancelot, and Merlin rode up.

"We're right behind him," Gwaine said, tossing his hair off his face. "Any more questions?"

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Uther was not a man given to dwelling on personal miscalculations, but he was having a hard time assigning blame anywhere else. He had rejected the man's story out-of-hand, and then ordered him released after a single night in a cell. Add to that his only son's failing to return from God only knew where, and the king was in a rare temper. "Sir Leon," the king said carefully, in an attempt at restraint, "Take the knights - as many as you feel are warranted - and locate my son. Bring him back here. If you need to tie him to his horse in order to do so, you have my permission. Is this understood?"

"Yes, Sire," Leon replied in a neutral tone. He resisted the urge to close his eyes. The thought of anyone actually succeeding in tying that wild young man onto a horse was too mind-boggling.

"If you should encounter - uh, do we know the man's name? The one who was peddling a jeweled crown?"

"I believe the jailer recorded his name as Whitley, Sire," Percival contributed.

"If you should encounter this - Whitley - bring him back here, also," the king finished. "Oh and he will be needed in good condition."

"Yes, Sire." Sir Leon and Percival wasted no time exiting the room, their eyes meeting in a quick sideward glance. _Oh, brother. _

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Whitley's instructions had been to give the person with the highest offer a slip of paper directing him to a remote and rather unsavory inn. There the exchange would be made. What no one had anticipated was the intense, nearly manic competition for the relic. The thief was desperately out of his depth. He was dealing with very powerful men, all accustomed to getting their own way. And now, unexpectedly, Arthur Pendragon, the prince of Camelot, had entered the picture. Whitley found himself confused by his presence.

Arthur was politely greeting the nobles and other royals, most of whom he knew, when a blur of gray fur streaked by him and, with a savage snarl, flew at Whitley's throat. Whitley gave a frightened shriek, and his hands flew up to protect his throat. Amid cries of consternation and confusion, nobles and armed warriors alike grabbed for their swords and crossbows.

_Ahatian! _Merlin, correctly guessing the gray wolf to be Gabriel, caused the sword of one of the men to glow red-hot. The man yelped in pain, dropping his sword and clutching at his hand. In the confusion, the gray wolf vanished back into the forest as quickly as he had appeared. _Whew! _Merlin thought. _What was Gabriel thinking? _

Whether or not it had been the elf's intent, the wolf's appearance went a long way to clarifying the situation for Arthur. The shabbily dressed man - Whitley? - was one of the thieves, he decided. Possibly one of the men who had tried to murder the elf. And he was trying to sell the stolen crown to someone with deep pockets.

The prince looked over his shoulder and signaled his dark-haired servant to ride up beside him. "Having fun, Merlin?"

"Uh mm," his servant said, in a noncommittal way, still not sure how comfortable the prince was with his magic.

"Eloquent as always."

Merlin decided to address the more immediate concern. "Are you going to tell them that what they're fighting over is stolen, Arthur?" he asked, in a low whisper. Gwaine and Lancelot moved closer to confer.

"Why?" Arthur replied. "They wouldn't care, and it wouldn't stop any of them."

"Maybe you should make an offer yourself," Merlin suggested.

"I refuse to pay Pendragon gold for a stolen crown."

"A low offer," the warlock persisted, "One that'll be topped. You need a reason for being here other than the true reason. You'll be safer." Both Gwaine and Lancelot nodded their approval of this reasoning.

"I see your point." The prince took a moment to decide on an amount. He was just about to proffer it when shouting and the sound of rapidly approaching hoof beats was heard. There was a murmur of dismay from the others.

"Tell me your best offer, and I'll top it," the newcomer hollered, having unerringly zeroed in on Whitley as the peddler of the merchandise. The speaker was a muscular bearded man in his mid-thirties, his features harsh and burned brown from the sun. Three well-armed men rode with him. Though Arthur had been only twelve when he'd last seen the man, he recognized him. It was Prince Vidarr.

Odin's son.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Bar room of seedy tavern

The leader of sorts of the thieves was a brutal-looking thug named Landis. He had a heavy brow, scraggly beard, and several missing teeth, and was currently occupied in downing a tankard of mead, one of many. Whitley was overdue, he thought. He should have reported back from the Pendragon court by now. Increasingly his thoughts were turning toward the jeweled crown. None of them had dared as yet to place the crown on their heads. There were several reasons for this, foremost being the distrust and jealousy among them. The more mead Landis drank, however, the more resolved he was to try the crown on himself. There had been a mirror in one of the rooms upstairs he remembered. Yeah, he would try it on and maybe even keep it. When Whitley finally returned, if he ever did, he could tell him there had been a change in plans.

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Prince Vidarr pulled his plunging horse to an abrupt halt and leaped from the saddle. At the same time, Arthur strode into the center of the clearing in full view of the new arrivals.

"Arthur Pendragon," Vidarr said, staring at him. "The golden prince of Camelot. Don't think you have an advantage just because the crown belonged to your ancestor, Macsen Wledig."

_What? Gabriel and Iseldir had made no mention of this_. Arthur felt a surge of anger filling him. This changed everything. The elves were not the rightful owners of the jeweled crown. He was.

_Uh oh_, Merlin thought, from where he stood behind the prince. _This could get messy_. He had no idea.

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Landis made his way unsteadily upstairs to one of their rooms trailed by several of his men. They had all been drinking heavily. The ones left on guard duty went downstairs to eat and drink in turn. Landis waited until they left before retrieving the crown from the old sack they'd placed it in.

"Landis, what in blazes do you think you're doing?" one of his drinking companions cried.

"Hey! The rest of us gotta say in this!" another man objected, scowling.

Ignoring them at first, he carried the crown over to the mirror. He paused for a moment, admiring the emeralds as they sparkled in the light. "I'm the leader. I gotta right." He plopped the crown onto his head.

Landis did not have the right. Power spiraled off from the crown and whirled around the room, the force of it knocking the other men off their feet and onto their backsides. Simultaneously, pain erupted through Landis' head where the circlet came in contact with his skull. With a loud cry, he ripped it off his head and flung it onto the bed. He stared wide-eyed at each of his men in turn and saw the fear he was feeling reflected in their eyes. Two of them made the sign against evil. Landis resolved then and there to accept _any_ offer for that accursed crown.

Back to the gathering of royals and nobles in the woods

Whitley was thoroughly rattled. He had moved out of his comfort zone some time ago and was wanting nothing more than to leave this place and these people.

"Come, man," Prince Vidarr demanded, impatiently. "Where's your tongue? What's the best offer so far?"

The thief opened his mouth to reply when he was forestalled by Prince Arthur.

"The crown was stolen from the Pendragon line of kings and hidden away for many years," Arthur said in his haughtiest manner. "It belongs by right to the king of Camelot. It will be _our_ offer that will be accepted, and we will be the ones leaving with it in our possession."

Behind him was a collective groan from his three companions. Gwaine cursed under his breath.

"Arthur," Merlin whispered, warningly. _Didn't the prat notice they were badly outnumbered? _He was ignored. His fingers itched from wanting to grab the prince and shake him. Any time he spent in the stocks as a result would have been well worth it.

"I think not," Prince Vidarr drawled, in a tone nearly a match in haughtiness for his golden-haired rival. He walked back a few paces and pulled his sword from its scabbard. In response, Arthur walked back to retrieve his own sword.

"Hold up!" King Melwas of Somerset (the second monarch present) and his well-armed men stepped between them. "The highest offer will be the one accepted regardless of who has offered it." This announcement was met by loud shouts of approval from several of the nobles present.

Whitley and most of the others had retreated a safe distance when the two rival princes had drawn their weapons. King Alined noticed with an eye to opportunity that the ill-favored thief was standing a few feet from them. He looked around the small clearing. Everyone else's attention was focused elsewhere. No one was looking his way. He motioned his jester over and whispered orders to him in an undertone. Trickler nodded his understanding and moved closer to the thief.

"_Tuck von phrixur, Whitley_." Trickler and the king guided the now tractable thief back further into the woods where they mounted their horses and left.

_How thoughtful of Prince Arthur to provide a distraction_, Alined thought.

Back in Camelot

Morgana woke in the middle of the night from a disturbing dream. She sat up, shaking and wild-eyed and clutching at the bedding. Damp tendrils of hair lay plastered to her neck and the edges of her face. She could only recall a little of the dream. Arthur was standing in the middle of a field, and the sky was raining fire all around him.


	4. Chapter 4

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Chapter Four

Nightfall

Percival saw it first. "Leon."

Sir Leon glanced at the large knight then looked up into the darkened sky. "A shooting star," he said. He had seen them before. It would burn up before it reached the -. He pulled up his horse. It did not. Even from this distance he could tell it had fallen to Earth. There were exclamations of surprise from the men. Soon more streaks of light moved across the night sky. The surprise quickly turned to mutters of dismay. As far as Sir Leon could tell, none of them were vaporizing before striking the ground.

With an air of inevitability , Sir Leon knew on a gut level where Arthur was - somewhere in the middle of the Valley of the Fallen Kings.

A few moments earlier

Although the first few meteorites that fell were small, the velocity at which they were traveling gave them the potential to injure or kill. This was shockingly demonstrated when one of King Melwas' men fell dead from a blow to the head. Nobles and royals alike started barking orders to their men. In the confusion, no one noticed that King Alined and his party had gone, nor did they notice the absence of the shabbily-dressed thief.

Prince Arthur half-turned. Merlin was standing close behind him, his blue eyes looking bewildered. Gaius had told him about meteors. They were small particles of matter that vaporized on entry into Earth's atmosphere. _Why wasn't that happening? _

"Gwaine, the horses!" the prince shouted. The knight raced to obey him.

Incredibly more meteorites continued to fall. Several small fires started smoking. Birds flew up from the trees, and wild animals ran from the area. Gwaine was having a difficult time calming Arthur's black stallion. The creature was rearing and screaming in panic. "Lance! Help me!"

A large meteorite fell less than a kilometer away, the resultant impact flattening trees and digging a crater in the earth. It also caused a shock wave to travel outward at extreme speed. Lancelot, scrambling to assist Gwaine, lost his footing and fell to his knees then to his stomach. He tried to push himself up with his hands, but the blast wind knocked him flat.

Both the prince and his servant were thrown backwards. Merlin's body rolled over and over, finally coming to rest against the trunk of a tree. The prince was lying stunned and winded on the ground, his blue eyes half-shut and unfocused.

Prince Vidarr steadied himself against a tree, still holding his drawn sword. He looked down. Arthur was lying dazed on the ground, barely moving. His dark-haired servant was lying a few feet beyond him, possibly dead. He couldn't tell from this distance. He glanced around the clearing, seeing mass confusion. There was no one to stop him. This was like a gift, Vidarr thought. The Pendragon prince was his for the taking. He lifted his sword and moved closer.

Exterior of tavern, night

King Alined's lip curled in distaste. He, his men, and Whitley had just ridden up in the yard. The tavern was seedy and run-down. He would be damned if he set one foot in that disgusting place. He had a hasty conversation with his jester. Trickler would retrieve the crown while he and most of his men remained on horseback. The jester dismounted and removed the spell from Whitley. The thief looked around in confusion. How did he get here?

"Come, come, man," King Alined said, impatiently. "Don't keep me waiting. Where is this crown you have promised me? You will show it to me before you see a single gold coin of my money."

Whitley looked blankly at him. King Alined won the bidding? He didn't remember that. At all. Why couldn't he remember that? Prince Arthur had come. The blonde-haired prince of Camelot. Which made no sense because his father, the king, had not believed him. Had ordered him jailed overnight. Then another royal had arrived - an unpleasant man by the name of Prince Vidarr. Odin's son. He was fairly sure he was getting a headache.

A short time later, Whitley, Trickler, and several of the king's men returned from the tavern's interior with a burlap sack. Landis and the remaining thieves trailed out after them. They hung back and let Whitley handle the transaction. King Alined thought their behavior a bit odd but decided they found his presence intimidating. That was understandable, he thought, arrogantly. He was used to it.

Whitley fumbled with the burlap sack, his hands shaking. The jester grew impatient and pulled the object from the sack. Stunned silence greeted this action. Even in the moonlight, the emeralds sparkled and the antique gold gleamed. Trickler carried the crown over to the king. Alined took it carefully from his hands, regarding it with awe. This was no hoax. This was the fabled crown of Macsen Wledig. It was solid, and it was real. The king thought briefly about asking where the unsavory-looking men had gotten it, but he knew it to be stolen. Why bother? It made no difference in the end.

The transaction soon drew to a successful conclusion. Alined was so pleased, he let Trickler give the man the full amount of his earlier bid. He was to remember later that the other bandits had been strangely silent.

Trickler took the crown from the king, restored it to the burlap sack, and placed it in the king's saddlebag.

"I believe our business here is concluded," King Alined said, his usual dour expression replaced with a satisfied smile. He glanced back over his shoulder at the night sky, seeing only faint stars, a half-moon and a few wispy clouds. He saw no fiery streaks in the sky. The shooting stars seemed to have gone away. He wondered vaguely what _that_ had been about. Ah well, it didn't concern him.

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Though no friend to Uther, King Melwas was concerned enough about the shooting stars that he immediately sent a message by raven to Camelot upon returning to his own kingdom. The bird flew across the White Mountains and managed to survive several harrowing hawk encounters. Melwas did not mention Arthur's presence, assuming Uther himself had sent his son to negotiate.


	5. Chapter 5

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Chapter Five

Prince Vidarr had not been present earlier when the gray wolf had gone for Whitley's throat. He was about to see a near reenactment. Moving closer to where the prince was lying, the harsh-featured man raised his sword. A gray streak ran from between the trees and leaped atop Arthur's body where it positioned itself snarling, its fangs long and sharp and dripping with saliva.

"What the hell -?" Vidarr jumped back, startled. He wasn't messing with _that. _What kind of man was this, he wondered, when wild animals leapt to his defense. It didn't dawn on him that the gray wolf might be more than it appeared. Turning, Vidarr signaled his three men, and they hastily mounted their horses and left.

Arthur weakly reached up and scratched the rough fur on the animal's belly. He decided he wasn't angry at Gabriel anymore.

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As the days passed without a hint of his son's whereabouts, King Uther grew restive and, if possible, more irritable. Even Sir Leon and the other knights had failed to return. So when the raven's message was brought to him, Uther had sought out Gaius in his chambers rather than wait for the physician to be summoned. Surprisingly, the troubling message was from King Melwas from whom he had long been at odds.

Gaius was busy at a work table when Uther came in. The king ascended the few stairs into Merlin's tiny room and stood frowning at its emptiness. Gaius paused to watch him. It was almost as if he thought the whole thing was Merlin's fault. The king reentered the larger room.

"What can I do for you, Sire?"

"I have received a message from King Melwas by raven," the king said, without preamble. He thrust the small bit of paper into the physician's hand.

Gaius read it and looked up. "A single shooting star, or even several, can sometimes portend a great event as you know, Uther - a royal birth or a victory in battle."

"And this?"

"There is something unnatural at work here, Sire. Most of these bits of matter should have burned up in the Earth's atmosphere - not continue falling to flatten trees, start fires, and kill one of King Melwas' men." He paused. "I fear there's something terribly amiss, Sire."

"Is there any way to determine where my son - and Merlin - are at the moment?" He added the last as an afterthought.

"Not without using magic, Sire." The king stared at the physician for several minutes, almost as if he were considering it. Whatever he had been thinking, he shook it off.

"That's, of course, out of the question."

"Certainly, Sire." The physician paused. "Would you consider consulting an astrologer? They have knowledge of celestial events."

Uther dismissed the topic with a wave of his gloved hand. "There are none in Camelot."

Gaius knew better than to give voice to the sarcastic remark on the tip of his tongue.

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"How bad is it?" Arthur asked. He had watched as his friends eased Merlin away from the tree and onto his back. Gabriel was currently probing the servant's right side while the prince and the two knights watched from behind. Despite the elf's gentle manner, Merlin was groaning in pain and protest.

"He has at least three broken ribs," Gabriel said. "I don't believe he hit his head though." He looked a question at the warlock.

"No."

"That's good," Arthur said, distractedly, his mind on the knotty problem of getting Merlin back to Camelot. All thoughts of the crown were immediately forgotten. They were several days out, in the middle of the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Merlin could not possibly ride that far with broken ribs. Even if they found a cart for him, they would never make it through the passes of the White Mountains.

"The druids can heal him, right?" Arthur asked the elf. Gwaine's eyes slid over to Lancelot's. Uther's son was awfully comfortable with magic all of a sudden.

"Yes, they can," the elf spoke slowly, "But there is somewhere closer we can take him."

"No, Arthur!" Merlin knew what Gabriel was going to say before he said it. "Not the Sidhe!"

"We can take him to Tir na n'Og," the elf continued, ignoring Merlin's outburst.

"No!" Merlin wailed. "It's too dangerous for Arthur."

"Shut up, Merlin," the prince said, "I make the decisions, not you."

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King Alined was posed in front of a full-length mirror in the royal bedchamber. Trickler was standing attendance behind him. Although not the rightful owner of the crown, Alined _was _royalty. He felt no such pain as Landis had when he tried on the crown.

"It suits you, Master," the jester said.

"Yes. Yes, it does, doesn't it?" the king replied, turning to catch all angles. He was in a rare good humor which was destined to be short-lived.

"May I suggest a large dinner party, Master? With all your high-ranking nobles and their wives in attendance?"

"Yes," Alined replied slowly, considering it.

There would be no dinner party. Reports of 'burning rocks' falling from the sky began coming in within the hour. Crops were burning, cottages and farm houses were damaged or destroyed. Farmers raced to get sheep, cattle and pigs under any cover as quickly as possible - barns, or failing that, under trees or cliff overhangs. Some of the smaller animals were taken inside houses. There were reports of injuries but, as yet, no human fatalities.


	6. Chapter 6

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Chapter Six

Although the journey to Lake Avalon and Tir na n'Og would have been less than a day's ride under normal circumstances, Arthur and his companions took it slow and easy, not wanting to jostle their friend anymore than necessary. Gabriel had wrapped the warlock's ribs with strips of cloth torn from a shirt before they departed. Merlin had not wanted to go, seeing nothing but disaster ahead, but his protests were in vain. The prince set a slow, easy pace with frequent stops, even occasionally walking, the four of them switching off leading the warlock's horse. Merlin had left his usual mount, Orion, back in Camelot, thinking to give him a bit of a rest. After all, they weren't going to be gone that long …..

The horse he was riding was a buckskin named Theta, cream-colored with a faint reddish tinge, its tail and mane black. It was a more spirited horse than Orion as Merlin was discovering to his sorrow.

They set up camp that night less than two hours' ride from Avalon with everyone but Merlin pitching in. Later the four of them split up sentry duty with Arthur's turn falling at midnight. The prince restlessly walked by where his servant was lying every few minutes or so. He noticed a faint gleam of light between half-shut lids and eased his booted foot under Merlin's wrist.

"Trouble sleeping, Merlin?"

"Uh huh." The dark-haired young man gingerly touched his bound ribs with his left hand.

"We'll be there mid-morning. Then you can get back to annoying me again."

"How can you trust the Sidhe, Arthur?"

"I don't, but I trust Gabriel. If it wasn't for him, Vidarr would have killed me yesterday." There was silence for a moment between the two of them.

"Your father must be really worried by now. We've been gone too long."

"I know. No doubt Sir Leon and the knights are scouring the Darkling Woods."

"We're not _in_ the Darkling Woods, Arthur."

"Yeah," Arthur snickered, "Really lowers their odds of finding us."

In this regard, Arthur underestimated Sir Leon. He, Percival, and the rest of the knights were well within the borders of the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Several hours ago, they had found the clearing of recent misadventure and had spent considerable time inspecting charred and broken trees and numerous tracks of both men and horses, trying to work out what had occurred there. None of them had an explanation for what appeared to be wolf tracks however.

Elsewhere

It was early morning as the five riders hurried through the forest, their horses' hooves stirring the low-lying fog that blanketed the forest floor. There was a murmur of voices as they reached a footpath half-hidden by pine needles and dead leaves and reined to a halt. Two of the men stayed with the horses while the remaining three continued on foot. A short distance away was a small weathered structure nearly hidden from view, surrounded as it was by trees and heavy brush.

King Alined lowered the hood of his cape and waited as one of his men rapped on the door, the other warily scanning the woods surrounding them. After a few moments, the slow shuffling of feet could be heard, and the door was pulled open.

An elderly woman of advanced age stood there. Nearing one hundred years, her face was deeply lined, her white hair giving no hint of its former hue. She wore it wound and pinned in a chignon on the back of her head. Several faceted crystals and feathers of unknown origin hung suspended from a chain around her neck, and she wore a long fringed shawl of a deep burgundy color. Intricate in design and of superb workmanship, it was a gift from the king on a previous occasion. Despite her years, her dark eyes shone with a fierce intelligence.

"Highness." The woman greeted him without surprise. Alined had sought her counsel and special gifts many times over the years.

"Blodwyn," the king nodded as he brushed past. His men followed him into the room. He no longer brought Trickler on these visits, finding his jester's jealousy tiresome.

"This is a matter of considerable urgency," Alined said, without preamble. He didn't bother to add that it was a matter of secrecy also. That was long understood between the two of them. He gestured toward one of his men. The man sat a wrapped bundle he was carrying carefully down on a table and pulled back the cloth. The woman gasped and recoiled, her hand clutched at her chest. Other than the fire crackling in the grate, there was silence in the room. Green and yellow light spun off the ancient crown; it flashed and gleamed and sparkled on the walls and reflected in the old woman's eyes.

"The crown of Macsen Wledig," she said, turning to look at the king with an expression of wonder. "It has been lost for many years." She paused. "It is not for you."

The two attendants sucked air in through their teeth and braced themselves for the king's anger. Although he looked angered by her words, it seemed not directed toward the woman. Ignoring her last remark, he spoke bitterly. "Better that it had remained lost."

"What has happened?" she asked him.

He told her about the curse. "What can I do to stop this?"

"It must be given to its rightful owner." She touched the crown delicately with long fingers curiously unbent by age. "You must locate and deliver this to Arthur Pendragon."

"Not Uther?"

"No," she stated, emphatically. "Arthur is the long-awaited king of prophecy. The crown is his by right. Never Uther."

"There is no way I can keep this - ?" Alined asked, heavily.

"No. And it may not be enough to simply hand Arthur the crown. It must be placed on his head."

"I'm sure that's not necessary, Blodwin," the king replied brusquely, finding the thought unpalatable.

"Well, let's think this through, Highness. Suppose you merely hand over the crown, and the prince takes it back to Camelot, and his father has it stored in the royal treasury. Has the curse been lifted? I don't know. Maybe not. Is that a risk you're willing to take?"

"Ah," the king said, seeing her point.

"You may have only one chance to fix this."

He sighed deeply, then nodded in acquiescence. "Can you pinpoint the boy's location?"

"Yes, Highness, I will scry him for you."

Same location, a short time later

"This is a bit odd," Blodwyn said, puzzled. She and King Alined were looking down into a flat pan of swirling water. "They appear to be riding toward the Great Seas of Meredor. And further away from Camelot."

"If they're looking for the crown, they're going in the wrong direction," the king said.

One of the king's men cleared his throat awkwardly. Alined and the old woman looked up at him.

"If I may, Sire-?"

"What is it?" Alined said, impatiently.

"Their destination could be Tir na n'Og."

The woman looked startled. She turned to Alined. "Was one of them injured?"

He shook his head. He had no idea. "The Sidhe?" the king said, faintly alarmed. He needed the prince alive and unharmed.

"This changes things," Blonwyn said. "Send your men to take him."

"You mean _capture_ him? You don't know what you're asking. Arthur is a swordsman of the first order. His father no doubt wrapped his tiny fingers around the hilt of a sword before he could walk. Also, he's traveling with two knights and an elf." Alined didn't bother mentioning the servant, thinking any resistance that young man put up would be negligible at best.

"Come, Highness, your fool of a jester knows enchantment spells. Have the prince brought to the Giants' Dance."

"Why there?" he asked.

"It seems appropriate. Uther's brother, Aurelius Ambrosias, is buried there. Also, it's nearby."

The king shrugged. It seemed as good a place as any.

Lake Avalon

A Sidhe woman was standing, waiting for them on the shore of the lake as the five of them rode up. In the distance was the mist-shrouded isle of Tir na n'Og. The woman was dressed in a gown of deepest green over a white shift that fell mid-calf, tiny star flowers woven through her thick, blonde hair. "Greetings, Arthur, prince of Camelot," she said, formally.

"Greetings," he replied, politely. "We wish to request - "

"We will allow the elf to bring your injured servant to the isle -" Arthur started to thank her when she continued speaking. "You and your two knights will remain here."

"What?! No!" Arthur exploded. "We're coming with him." He didn't trust the Sidhe, and he didn't want Merlin out of his sight.

"Arthur," Merlin murmured, "It will be all right."

The prince looked at his servant, hesitant.

"I'll be with him, Arthur. Nothing will happen," Gabriel assured him.

"One day you will be brought here, Arthur Pendragon," the woman said, "and we will keep you for a time. But not today. Today you will remain here on the shores of Avalon. And you will wait." She clasped her hands across her stomach and regarded him with a placid expression.

"All right," Arthur conceded, clearly not happy. "But if my servant is not returned, I will come myself and get him."

As events were shortly to prove, they were all worried about the wrong person.


	7. Chapter 7

**Please read and review. Thanks. **

Chapter Seven

Lancelot and Gabriel carefully assisted Merlin down from the buckskin, although a few low moans of pain escaped the young man's lips. Arthur stood nearby watching. He briefly gripped his servant's lower arm.

The ferryman was waiting for them on the narrow pier. His clothing was of a coarse, gray material with raggedy sleeves and a hood that covered his head. Gwaine walked past the Sidhe woman to press two coins into the man's outstretched hand. Lancelot helped Gabriel ease the warlock into the boat, then turned to hand the woman in.

"I will meet you there," the Sidhe woman said, with a tinkling laugh. She shrank into a miniature ball of white light and darted out over the lake.

Tir na n'Og, a short time later

The woman had changed back into human form by the time Merlin and Gabriel had been ferried across the lake. She led the two of them to a stone fountain from which water gushed from the mouth of a stone sea serpent.

"Sit down," she said, indicating that the dark-haired young man should sit on the ledge that surrounded the fountain. Gabriel eased him down.

A Sidhe youth brought the woman a goblet. She held it under the mouth of the serpent, seeming not to notice that water soaked her hand and arm and splashed her dress. It was an ordinary goblet; the water itself had the healing power. She handed the goblet to Merlin, wrapping his fingers around it and guiding it to his mouth. She watched him closely as he drank, seeing him for the first time as someone other than the servant of a prince. A tiny frown marred her features. She could feel powerful magic stirring within him. _Who was this? _She backed off slowly. "Emrys," she murmured, recognizing him at last. The warlock's blue eyes met hers over the cup.

She turned to look at the elf. "You have dared to bring him _here_?"

"The prince wishes to return to his own kingdom, and his servant was injured. We will leave as soon as he is healed," Gabriel replied.

"You will leave now, or you will not leave at all," the woman said, angered.

"He is healed then?" the elf asked, stubbornly.

"Yes!" Merlin interjected, tired of being talked over.

"Now go! Take him!" the blonde Sidhe woman hissed to the elf. "It is dangerous for him to be here."

Lake shore

Merlin knew something was wrong when the ferryman brought the boat up against the weathered old pier. There was no one there to meet them. Both the warlock and the elf hurried from the boat onto shore. They found the two knights almost immediately, lying unconscious but otherwise seemingly unharmed. Arthur was nowhere in sight. The warlock turned to Gabriel. "Did the Sidhe do this?" he asked, puzzled and appalled.

"That makes no sense." the elf replied. "Why wouldn't they have let him come with us to the isle? They would have had him easy."

"True. Someone else then ….."

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Trickler had told the captain it was not necessary to bind Arthur's hands, but the man had done it anyway. Damned if he was taking orders from the king's jester. Uther's son had stood there unresisting while two of his men had tied his wrists and thrown him on the back of one of the horses. They had left the knights lying sprawled on the ground, not bothering to check if they were alive or dead. He had been told there were two others riding with the prince; he supposed them to be on Tir na n'Og. He wasn't setting one foot on that island, his mother not having raised any foolish children.

King Alined had ordered them to take Arthur to the Giants' Dance. Didn't they do human sacrifices there? The thought made the captain's skin crawl. He'd kill the prince if the king ordered it, but damned if he'd stand by and watch other people participate in any pagan rituals.

They had stopped for the night, making camp beside a stream. Arthur's wrists had been untied, and food and water placed in front of him. He sat there listlessly, making no effort to either eat or drink, his cerulean blue eyes unfocused.

Growing impatient, one of the men, Eamnonn, tried encouraging him. "Here, Highness, you need to drink something," he said, gruffly. He got him to drink a little of the water; the rest had mostly spilled. The other men sat around eating and watching, a few making jokes.

Finally, one of the men asked, a little nervously, why they were taking the prince to the standing stones. He didn't voice the question in the back of all their minds. _Were they expected to kill him there? _

Ordinarily, the captain, Pandarus by name, would have sharply reprimanded the man, but his own unease led him to reply. "King Alined will be meeting us there, and he will tell you what if anything you need to know. Until then we will obey the king's orders. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Captain."

The men fell mostly silent save for Eamnonn stubbornly trying to get the prince to eat a little. Frustrated, the man looked at Trickler. "Can't you take the damn hex off long enough for the boy to eat?"

The jester didn't bother explaining the difference between a hex and an enchantment spell. "Believe me," Trickler said, "you don't want that. The prince's reputation as a swordsman is well-deserved."

Eamnonn was liking this assignment less and less.

Shore of Lake Avalon

Gwaine was conscious and furious. He told Gabriel and Merlin that he thought it had been King Alined's men who had attacked them. He also thought that the king's jester, Trickler, had been with them. Lancelot exchanged glances with Merlin; they both knew that the man had magic. Oddly, this knowledge was a bit of a relief to Merlin. If Trickler had been able to use an enchantment spell on Arthur, then the king's men were less likely to have injured him.

"Why would King Alined take Arthur?" Merlin asked, thinking aloud.

"Do we know who has the crown of Macsen Wledig?" Lancelot asked, seemingly making a remark at random.

Gwaine looked at him, annoyed. "What does _that_ have to do with Arthur being missing? I don't give a damn about -." He stopped. Both Merlin and Gabriel were looking at Lancelot with arrested looks on their faces.

"We forgot about the crown," Merlin said. "We haven't even been _thinking_ about it."

"Why should we?" Gwaine asked, feeling he was missing something.

"Because Arthur is the rightful owner of the crown," Merlin said. The elf had the grace to look faintly abashed. "Prince Vidarr told us that much on the day the shooting stars fell to Earth."

"The thought did cross my mind," Gabriel said slowly, "that the curse was that the shooting stars no longer vaporized in the Earth's atmosphere."

"King Alined has the crown," Lancelot said. "It's almost a certainty."

"Yes, and he needs Arthur to stop the curse," Merlin added.


	8. Chapter 8

**Please read and review. Thanks. **

Chapter Eight

Sir Leon had a decision to make. Should they continue to ride through the night, or would it be better to halt and make camp? He and Percival looked back at the knights, seeing exhausted men and equally exhausted horses. There was no choice really.

"We'll set up camp here for the night," he told them.

Elsewhere

When Merlin went to check on the horses, he received a surprise. Arthur's black stallion was still there. The only horse missing was his own horse, the buckskin. He supposed Arthur had been in no condition to tell them which horse was his, or maybe they hadn't cared. Well, he'd ridden Pyramus before although he was grateful he wasn't to do so with broken ribs.

_Hebog dod ataf. _The warlock had wandered off a ways by himself to summon the peregrine falcon. When he turned back around, he saw Gabriel walking toward him.

"You know, Merlin, I can shape-shift into a falcon also," the elf said, sounding a little hurt.

Despite his worry for Arthur, the warlock smiled at him. "I need this _particular_ falcon, Gabriel. It has a gift for locating royal prats."

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It was sometime after midnight when the meteorites started falling again. They streaked flaming through the lower atmosphere and fell at incredible velocity, setting trees on fire and carving out small craters in the earth.

Arthur woke to noise and confusion and the discovery that his hands were bound. Where was he? He struggled to sit up while taking rapid mental inventory. One, he didn't seem to be injured, and two, he was very hungry. Whoever these people were, they didn't seem to be feeding him. He was unarmed - not a big shock - but the more immediate problem was finding where his horse was.

Captain Pandarus, trying to deal with an out-of-control situation, saw Arthur sitting up and fairly screamed at the man closest to him. "Eamnonn! Get the prince somewhere safe!"

Eamnonn crawled over to where Arthur sat and pulled the young man closer. He hastily looked around. Burning rocks were falling all around them. _There was nowhere safe_. Maybe they could get to the horses. He pulled Arthur to his feet and, holding on to his upper arm, ran with him in the direction of the horses. Enroute, the blonde young man caught a glimpse of Trickler. Alined's men then.

The horses were moving restlessly, several of them yanking on their tethers, trying to break free. Eamnonn hastily led Arthur in the direction of the buckskin. Wait, dammit, he was going to have to saddle both horses. All around them, other men were frantically catching at their horses. He shoved Arthur to the ground and quickly tied his ankles together with a length of rope. Realizing that the young man's hands were still tied in front, Eamnonn grabbed one of the men and hissed, "Watch him." The prince awkwardly pushed himself up onto an elbow. He stared, worried and confused, at the buckskin. Merlin's horse. He tried to think. Gabriel took his servant to Tir na n'Og. They would have still been there then. It was Gwaine and Lancelot that had been in harm's way. He wanted to ask this man if his friends were all right, but it would have to wait.

Eamnonn finished saddling both horses. He hastily untied Arthur's ankles, and hooking his hand under his arm, hauled him to his feet.

He pushed him toward the buckskin. "Up you go, highness. Hurry!" The two of them mounted their horses and hurriedly left the campsite, Eamnonn catching at the reins of the buckskin, and, for lack of a better destination, pointing them both toward the standing stones.


	9. Chapter 9

**Please read and review. Thanks.**

Chapter Nine

Arthur could have escaped from Eamnonn, even unarmed and with his hands tied. But Merlin would find him soon enough - he seemed to have a knack for it - and he found he was curious about what Alined wanted with him.

The two of them stopped once during what remained of the night to give the horses a breather. Eamnonn dismounted and pulled the prince down from his horse. Reaching across the buckskin, he removed Merlin's water skin from the saddle.

"This need more water?" he asked, sloshing the liquid around.

"I don't know. This isn't my horse." Pause. "Well, it is," he corrected himself, "but it's not the one I was riding."

"The big black one was yours, huh?"

"Yeah."

Eamnonn unstoppered the water skin and handed it to Arthur. Holding it with both hands, the blonde young man drank thirstily. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Where are you taking me?" he asked, although they were close enough for him to hazard a guess.

The older man took the water skin from him and replaced it on the saddle before replying. "The Giants' Dance," he said, confirming Arthur's guess.

Eamnonn glanced at the young man occasionally as they continued their journey. He found himself puzzled by the fact that Arthur made no attempt to escape. He was neither belligerent nor hostile, instead behaving politely and giving him no trouble. Eamnonn was not naïve enough to think that the prince's reputation was overblown. He felt certain that the young man riding docilely enough beside him deserved every bit of it.

Eamnonn was left with the strange fancy that he was in the prince's service - not Alined's - and that he was taking that young man exactly where he wanted to go.

Later

There was a faint stirring of wind and a flutter of wings when a falcon flew out of the night sky. It came from behind them and flew over the prince's left shoulder, the feathers of its right wing lightly caressing the young man's cheek. The prince smiled happily. _Merlin_. He hoped that the idiot had brought him something to eat.

His captor started, pulling his horse up short. "What was _that_ about?"

Arthur stopped his horse and looked back, politely waiting. Eamnonn was starting to feel slightly unnerved.

"My friends will be joining us shortly," the young man said, conversationally.

The older man was not particularly surprised when Gwaine, Lancelot, Merlin, and Gabriel rode up and surrounded them a few moments later. He made note of the long-haired elf riding with them. The prince's servant rode the black stallion.

"You're on my horse," Merlin said.

"All the horses are mine," Arthur replied. "I'm the prince. Is there still some venison in my saddlebag or did you eat it all?"

"No, there's still some," Merlin replied, reaching around to get it.

Gwaine, meanwhile, had ridden over and grabbed at Eamnonn's reins. "What do you want us to do with him, Sire?"

"Leave off, Gwaine. He didn't hurt me."

Merlin leaned closer to Arthur. He took advantage of the distraction to place one hand on the young man's wrist. _"Rhad ac am ddim y tywysog." _Arthur looked up and watched his friend's blue eyes turn gold. The ropes loosened and fell to the ground.

"What does Alined want with me? Does he want me dead?" the prince asked, around bites of venison.

"No," Merlin replied. "He most definitely does _not_ want that." Eamnonn listened with interest.

"This whole thing has to do with the crown of Macsen Wledig," the warlock continued, "the one that you're the rightful owner of."

"Alined has the crown?"

"Oh, yes," Merlin said. "Gabriel thinks that the burning rocks are the curse."

"Ah, finally an end to the mystery," Arthur said. He paused, thinking. "Alined wants me to stop the stars from falling?" A note of incredulousness crept into his voice. "Are we positive I can do that?"

"Yes, Arthur, you're the only one who can."

As arrogant as the prince was, he still felt humbled by the scope of what he was expected to do.

Elsewhere

King Alined looked worriedly at the night sky. He and the men who accompanied him waited near the standing stones in the darkness just before dawn. The fiery streaks were plunging to Earth in the direction that his men would be coming, bringing Uther's son to him. Probably not a coincidence, he thought, grimacing. He needed the young man alive and unhurt.

Nearby, though he was unaware of it, another king waited for Arthur's arrival. The ghost of Aurelius Ambrosias, Arthur's uncle, waited in the shadow of one of the standing stones.

Less than a kilometer away, Arthur and his companions were approaching. The prince and his servant had traded horses, the blonde-haired young man now back on Pyramus, his sword in its scabbard. Eamnonn accompanied them. He had shrugged when Arthur told him he was free to go. Captain Pandarus had ordered him to bring the prince to the king. He supposed technically he was still following orders (if you interpreted them loosely.)

"I hope this won't take long," Arthur said, yawning. "I need to sleep."

"The king will probably just have one of his men hand the crown to you," Merlin said, reassuringly. "Then it will all be over." A meteorite crashed to Earth uncomfortably close to them. Merlin and Arthur exchanged glances.

"Not liking _that_ much," Gwaine said.

A short time later

Arthur and his companions rode into view of the stones, then up to King Alined and his men. The prince dismounted, as did the others, Merlin taking the reins of the stallion.

"Did you wish to see me, Alined?" the prince asked the king in a neutral tone.

King Alined stared at Eamnonn, nonplused. _Where were the rest of his men? _This was all wrong. To Eamnonn: "Where is Captain Pandarus?"

Although not the person addressed, the prince answered instead. "The burning rocks fell in the middle of the night. Your men's camp was left in considerable disarray. This man -" Here the prince nodded at Eamnonn. "-pulled me out of there and got me on a horse."

"Where is Trickler?" Alined asked Eamnonn.

The man started to reply when Arthur interrupted impatiently. "He doesn't know. Could we hurry this up? You wished to give me something?"

King Alined hesitated. A meteorite fell nearby, leaving a crater in the Earth. He hastily gave orders to one of his men. The man opened a saddlebag on the king's horse and removed a cloth-wrapped bundle. He then turned around and hesitated, unsure who to give it to. Merlin solved the problem for him by walking over and taking it from his hands.

"The crown needs to be placed on Arthur's head," the king said, grudgingly. He was not liking any of this.

"Give the crown to me. I will crown my nephew myself." The spectral king stepped from the shadows of the Giants' Dance as he spoke. The king's men backed off in fear and dismay.

Merlin's blue eyes met the blue eyes of the prince. _Are you okay with this?_

"It's all right, Merlin. Give my uncle the crown." To Aurelius Ambrosias: "Greetings, Uncle, what do you want me to do?"

A few moments later, the prince was on his knees in the center of the standing stones as his uncle placed the crown on his blonde head. Meteors vaporized on entry into the atmosphere, their incandescence leaving fiery streaks in the sky.

"Arise, Arthur, born of legend and destined to unite kingdoms."

To Alined's disgust, everyone of his men had fallen to their knees.

As Arthur stood, dawn broke over the horizon, and morning light poured through the standing stones, casting long shadows, and bathing the prince in a rosy golden glow.

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When Sir Leon and the knights rode up much later, King Alined and his men, Eamnonn among them, were long gone. The once and future king lay sleeping in the middle of the standing stones, surrounded by three sleeping companions. Gwaine alone sat awake and on guard, his back against one of the huge stones.

The End.

**A/N to Nance: Yes, I did put Odin's son in this story with the intent you alluded to in your review of chapter three, but** **the story veered off in another direction. :-) Thanks for reviewing. **


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